


Purity

by Happy_Cow



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Addiction, Ben is 32, Breastfeeding, Captivity, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Christmas noncon, Drug Addiction, Drugged Sex, F/M, Hand Jobs, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Older Man/Younger Woman, Poor Rey (Star Wars), Power Imbalance, Praise Kink, Rey is 16, Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Cow/pseuds/Happy_Cow
Summary: It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Evening came on, and in the cold and gloom a poor little girl, was walking through the streets.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 45
Kudos: 115





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Life Day!! Im still stuck in study-hell until the start of 2021, but I couldn't help but write a little :'3 I missed u guys a lot, I missed writing a lot...  
> Sadly, there's no Dark Hallmark channel to show me Forbidden Christmas movies lol

With each step, the unsold lighters rattled inside of the pockets of her tattered cardigan. It was her only shelter against the elements since her foster-father sold her woolen coat. 

The snow funneled down the narrow streets, searing her eyes and her thin skin. People rushed out of the nearby subway station with their heads turned down. Shyly Rey trailed after each of them, in a few mincing steps, trying to sell off the last of her stock. She was unable to raise her thin voice over the wind. _Lighters for sale,_ she mouthed. The wind tore quicksilver tears from her eyes. No one turned to look at her. _Please_ , she said.

The snow thickened, and turned the air before her eyes into a wall of grey. Her shoulders grew heavy, and her breath froze in her throat. Without school, she did not get to eat. She hadn’t seen her friends in a while; to be sure, she did not want them to see her like this. To know that she lived like this.

She moved woodenly from the subway stop, until she came to an empty alleyway. There her legs gave out beneath her, and she slid to the wet, hard ground. The water seeped into her underwear, but she could not care. She knew that soon she would not feel this cold. With her back against the wall of the building, she rifled through her pockets. The plastic lighter casings tinkled like bells. She pulled one out — it was blue. She popped off the cap. 

In one long breath, she pulled the butane into her lungs. The streetlights burst and then refocused, floating in perfect circles, like fairy lights. When she coughed, the lights flickered. With the second pull, the cold faded away, and the rigidity melted from her spine. 

The snow whirled and painted curlicues in the air, which Rey watched with dazed fascination. When the wind quickened, or the cold returned, she would take another hit. 

It was then that she heard it — the voice. It called her name, _Rey_.

She shook her head like a dog. She turned her head this way and that, fearful. She didn’t want Plutt to find her; he had a way of taking anything away from her, even her happiness. The other option was that it could be someone who knew her, one of her friends. That would be worse; the embarrassment would kill her. 

But there was no one, and the street was growing darker, and colder. Desperately, she fished inside of her pockets and pulled out a fresh lighter. On the remainder of her last high, the red casing glowed against her fingertips. She popped off the cap and breathed. The light returned. Warmth spread outwards from her lungs; it was the first time she felt warm in days.

Rey wished that she could just live like this forever, warm and happy. That cold and dark _other place_ didn’t need the likes of her, didn’t want her. She could disappear in a mist of butane, and no one would miss her. She’d just lacked the resolve until now. _Maybe, this is the year_ , she thought, idly running her hands along her pockets.

The voice returned once more. “ _Rey_ ,” it said.

She clutched the butane guiltily, protectively to her chest. When she raised her head, her eyes made out the shape of a shadow looming in the alleyway. She froze up, terrified — she couldn’t tell how long he was standing there, or if he were real. He did not look real. His eyes did not look real.

Tearfully, she recognized who he was. Rey wrapped her arms around her midsection, nearly spilling the red casing. He was without his uniform, but that long, pale face could belong to none other than the _Policeman_. But she was nowhere near the subway station; _why is he here?_ she wondered miserably. 

But he made no move to take her lighters. “ _That’s your name, isn’t it_ ,” he said. “ _Your old man knew_ that _much._ ”

The words sank towards Rey, dragging her downwards. She knew that this could not be good. Dread filled her entire being.

“ _It’s going to reach below ten degrees tonight_ ,” he said. “ _They’re opening the homeless shelters to all comers tonight. All the churches, too. But you don’t know that, do you,_ ” he said. 

Rey gripped the red lighter, struggling to absorb his words through the fog of butane. His shoes crunched against the frost that layered the ground. Rey startled off of the ground. In her panic, the red lighter slipped from her numb fingertips, skittered on the ice, and flung the rest of its precious contents into the polluted snow at their feet. Butane splashed against the tip of his boot. The light flickered.

Accustomed to punishment, Rey squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away, steeling herself for the incoming slap. She waited, but it did not come. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he was standing close to her. The red casing was in his gloved hand. 

She made the mistake of looking up. His lips, his nose, and his brow swam in her vision; his eyes were boreholes in his face. Rey clutched her lighters to her body. Rey had little else to give, but she needed the light. He could take her cardigan, or her waterlogged sneakers, anything but her light.

His brow narrowed. A hand shot out for her pockets, and Rey cried out as if she were stabbed. _Stop it_ , she begged. 

He clicked his tongue and leaned in close to her, that his breath made warm steam. He raised his forearm and braced it above her head. “ _You know you’re not supposed to sell that shit anymore_ ,” he said, his tone dripping with condescension. “The station manager bitches about it to me, you know? You get me in a _lot_ of trouble every time you come back.”

Rey hunched her shoulders, shivering. The cold was returning, the dark seeping into the edges. She just wanted him to go away. He could beat her up; he could take everything but the lighters and then go away, and then everything would be alright. 

He breathed sharply through his nose and shook his head slowly. “ _C’mon_ ,” he said, before slipping his hand behind her back. Confused, and numb with cold, Rey let herself be peeled from the wall. 

The snow and salt that caked the sidewalks crunched beneath her shoes. Rey felt as if she were walking on stilts; the streetlights swayed in a nauseating way. But she was pushed into the front seat of a dark BMW. The insides smell chemically fresh and new. The Policeman slipped into the driver’s seat, shutting the door beside him. He started the car, and warm air blasted out of the air conditioning system.

Rey folded her knees beneath her, and she looked out at the snow streaking across the window. Though she was wet, the cold was slowly draining out of her. A single, perfect snowflake imprinted on the window — and the locks banged shut, making her jump. When she turned to look at him, the Policeman was staring out of the windshield, rubbing his pale hands together for warmth. 

He noticed her from the corner of his eye, and he turned to smile at her; the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Let’s get you home,” he said. 

A strained silence enveloped them. The Policeman frowned. “Don’t you wanna go home, sweetheart?” he said. “It’s almost Christmas,” he added. “Somebody’s gotta be waiting for you at home.”

Rey couldn’t grasp what was happening. She just wanted to stay this warm, in this nice car, and breathe more lighter fluid. She couldn’t imagine what he was doing, or why he was being nice to her, and she was growing afraid. She couldn’t go back to Plutt; she hadn’t sold a single lighter, and he would smell the butane on her breathe. Plutt would beat her like a dog for wasting his product and she didn’t want that. When the Policeman asked her again, _Don’t you wanna go home_ , she shook her head, panicking. 

Her answer must have astonished him, because he recoiled. “ _Why_?” he asked. Again, Rey couldn’t answer him.

The car pulled smoothly away from the curbside. Rey thought that was the end, until she heard him mutter in a low voice, as if he were talking to himself. “ _You don’t mean that_ ,” he was saying. “ _Doesn’t anybody love you, little one?”_

The question malingered in the air, left unanswered. Abandoned. Rey’s bottom lip trembled and her heart felt as if it were breaking. She prayed he wouldn’t say anything more, and for the first time in her life, an angel must have heard her.

* * *

After a while, she knew that she wasn’t being driven to Plutt’s house. All of the roads had blurred together, but then the city disappeared, and then the housing. There were stretches of forests, featureless in the night, and this began to frighten Rey. Her fingers twitched for more butane, but she was afraid of how he might react. He might push her out of the car and leave her there, on the empty road. That was one option that was marginally worse than returning to Plutt.

But the Policeman was true to his word, in a sense. A weight lifted off her chest as the car drove up to a home in the wilderness. 

The house was a Dutch Colonial, like the kind on water color postcards. When Rey stepped inside, she felt dirty and small in comparison. Her thin, tattered shoes looked like rags against the hardwood floor. The Policeman must have thought so, too, because he made her take them off.

He shed his overcoat from his body, and brushed off the snow that crowned his head. He smiled again, before reaching out and running his hand over her scalp. Without the coat, he wore a sweater; there was no hiding the sheer breadth of his shoulders. She held her breath until his hand fell down to his side.

Reluctantly Rey trailed after him, up two flights of stairs. He opened a door in the attic, and when she looked inside, her mouth fell open. It was a girl’s bedroom, with a dresser and a bookcase, and one round dormer window. A door to the side lead to a private bathroom. The floor was carpeted. 

_Does he have a daughter?_ The thought began in the back of her mind, and then it grew as she looked over the books in the bookshelf. Hardcover copies of _The Hunger Games_ , _Harry Potter_. Her nose crinkled — those were probably beyond her reading level. The girl who lived here was smarter than her, richer than her. Rey felt that prickly, uneasy sense that came from intruding into someone else’s home. Which she was...

“You can stay here, if you want.”

Rey spun around. Mister Policeman — she needed to find another name for him — smiled briefly at her, his hands resting in his pockets. 

“Just _temporarily_ , you know,” he added sharply. “At least until the holidays are over.” Rey felt herself floating away from her body. She looked around the wonderful room, and then at him, not quite believing her senses. 

His mouth twisted and he sauntered over to her, hands still in his pockets. His nostrils flared in _that_ way, that made Rey recall the days when he caught her by the arm, dragged her away from the station, and took away her lighters. Rey clutched the pockets of her cardigan protectively, but instead he raised a finger. 

“One condition,” he said, his eyelashes fluttering. “I have guests — _family,_ coming over tomorrow, for, _you know_ ,” he said before _clapping_ his hands together so sharply that Rey jumped. “ _They_ don’t need to know you’re up here,” he said. “I just don’t want you _freezing_ to death outside, _but my parents won’t see it that way._ ” The inflection in his voice bordered on whining. He was annoyed that his parents were coming over... Suddenly, Rey could not be sure how old he was — thirty or late twenties.

He looked her in the eyes, turning serious. “I need you to be very _very_ quiet, at night,” he said sternly, placing his finger over his lips. “And in the day, when we’re at home. You think you can do that?”

Rey bobbed her head before absorbing what he was saying. It slowly, _tentatively_ dawned on her that she would have a warm place to herself, and the only caveat was that she would need to keep her mouth shut and she would be left alone. It just sounded too good to be true. 

He retreated from her, his expression unreadable. “Good, good,” he said, swinging his arms in a low arc. Then, “Wash yourself. You can wear whatever’s in the drawers, but don’t put those rags back on.” With that, he left the room. 

Rey was astonished at how easily he gave orders, as if he expected you to do what he said. But it wasn’t as if she had a choice; she was his guest, out of the kindness of his heart. She heard his footsteps thump back down the stairs. Quickly she stalked up to the door and waited for a moment, before closing the door. There was no lock. Then she shrugged off her cardigan, listening for any stray sounds to signal his return. 

Strangely enough, there was a sound, although it was very faint. A muffled clanging sound that touched her inner ear. When she shook her head, it was gone. It made her uneasy; it was like the ringing in her ears when Plutt would slap her. 

Once she was in her underwear, she realized that she wouldn’t put her filthy clothes back on. She tossed her cardigan and her lighters beneath the bed, in case he thought about taking it from her. Then she ran into the bathroom and closed the door — again, no lock. 

White tiled floors and walls, with not a fleck of black mold. The faucets hottest setting could _boil_ her; she needed to set it a notch down. When she came out, she was lightheaded with heat, and as red as a lobster. 

Cautiously, she peeked out of the bathroom. Her old clothes were off the floor and in the hamper. Startled, Rey ran out, with a towel wrapped around her chest. When she knelt and checked beneath the bed, she sagged with relief at the sight of her cardigan. _So he didn’t find it after all_ , she thought, smiling triumphantly. 

Rey walked around the room again, brushing everything with the tips of her fingertips, to assure herself that this was reality. Then the questions began bubbling up; _why am I here? Whose room is this? Will he hurt me?_ Rey wanted the lighter fluid to calm herself down, but she balled her fists and forced herself to breathe, slowly. What if he came in again and saw her? He might get upset; this was his house. 

After pressing the water from her hair, she went through the drawers. The clothes were made for a taller girl, but she found a long red sweater, and some basketball shorts that could be cinched at the waist. At this point, she resolved to see him again tonight, before his parents come. She needed to know whose room this was.

Her head poked out of the room, into the darkened hallway. “Hello?” she called. “Officer?” Her voice echoed down the stairwell, small and reedy. She walked out and downwards, cautiously. 

“In here,” he called back, from a dimly lit room. Rey went inside, and her mouth fell open.

At the center of the room stood a Christmas tree. The lights strung along it glittered like stars in the darkened room. 

“It looks better in the dark.” Rey jumped in place. Beside her, the man began to laugh. His features were limned by the lights from the tree; she could make out the curve of his lips, and the reflection of his dark eyes. “You’ll see what I mean — hold on,” he said. He backed away, and the lights went on. Rey had to blink the spots out of her eyes. “See?” he said.

Rey looked at the tree again, in the light, and she shook her head. In the light, some of the wonder from before was lost. What you saw was what you got — an evergreen tree, perched on top of a green stand. “It’s a nice tree,” she said in its defense. The Policeman snorted derisively, before returning beside her. “It _is_ ,” she said, “it’s just... _naked_.” The last part was said in a small voice, but he chuckled anyways. 

Tentatively, she reached out to squeeze a branch, waiting for him to scream or yell at her. A sticky, sweet-smelling oil painted her fingertips. “It just needs more ornaments on it,” Rey suggested. “That, _or_ you could keep the lights off all the time...”

She realized that Mr. Policeman was wearing a hat. It was a red hat, with white furry trimming. There was also probably a bell at the end, because whenever he moved, there was a tinkling sound. “That’s a good idea,” he said, before shoving a shoebox into her hands. It was full of Star Wars ornaments, and _only_ Star Wars ornaments. 

He had his own box, and he sauntered to the opposite side of the tree. Rey had never seen a Star Wars movie, but she had absorbed enough knowledge of it like background radiation just from watching television. She picked up a little green man and thought, _This is Yoda_ , to herself, before stringing him up on the tree.

“You look cute, by the way,” the Policeman murmured. “I never thought you could do _that_ to basketball shorts. Very sexy.”

Immediately, Rey’s face turned red. She hoped he couldn’t see. She picked up a Millennium Falcon ornament between her thumb and forefinger. _Thank you_ , she mouthed, unable to raise her voice any higher. Did he hear what he just said? Did he know that she was sixteen? Was he joking...? “They don’t... fit, very well,” she replied.

“That’s because Kira is kind of bigger than you,” he answered, and he peered out behind the tree. “That’s my half-sister. She’s spending Christmas with her mother, so you’ll be fine.”

Rey felt a weight ease off her shoulders. “That’s good—. I-I mean, that, that you could give me her room,” she said, wincing. She probably sounded like a creep right now. Rey glanced at the mantle above the fireplace, discreetly trying to find ‘Kira’s’ face there.

His eyebrow raised. “You could just say, ‘ _Thank you, Ben_.’” 

She was caught off-guard. “‘Thank you... _Ben_ ,’” she parroted dumbly.

“Or, ‘ _Thank you, Officer Solo_ ,’” he added sharply. Then he smiled. “That’s only outside this house, though,” he said. “... You know I know about your lighters.”

Rey swallowed, and set the Death Star she was holding back into the shoe box. “You do?” she asked faintly.

She was waiting for a snappy response, a dark look. Plutt would bait her like that: he would smell her breath, and kindly ask if she enjoyed herself, before hitting her. The silence was worse. Rey swallowed nervously, until he replied with, “I don’t care.”

Rey tried to look behind the tree, but he was preoccupied with placing an AT-AT onto a branch. 

“You keep that shit to your room, though,” he warned in a low voice. His eye briefly met hers. “You don’t go crazy on that stuff, right?” When he saw her confusion, he clarified, “You don’t start _breaking_ and _stealing_ shit?”

“N-no,” Rey said. 

“Are you _sure_ you don’t, or do you _black out_?” he suggested. “Like you don’t have any control over what you do after?”

“No... _no_.” Butane didn’t do that to her. “I get more quiet than usual,” Rey answered. Eagerly, she added, “You’ll forget that I’m upstairs. It makes me forget when I’m hungry, even—.”

“Oh, _God, no_ ,” he snapped. He set his box down. The bell on his hat jingled ominously as he circled the tree towards her. “You know how to _not_ kill yourself on that stuff, right?” he demanded. When he grabbed her shoulders, the ornaments in the box clinked together. “Bad things will happen, if I end up with a strung-out high schooler dead in my attic,” he deadpanned.

A spike of anguish shot through her. Tears pricked her eyes. It was the same feeling as in the car, when he asked who loved her (no one). She swallowed and took a breath to steady herself, blinking quickly. _I won’t kill myself,_ she promised him, but she was unable to raise her voice. She wouldn’t inconvenience him like that.

A smile crawled up his face; to Rey, it was as if he had heard her innermost thought. His hands cupped her face and he stepped forward, crushing the shoe box between their bodies. Something crackled inside. Rey was going to say something, just as his mouth caught hers. Then his lips brushed the middle of her brow.

Rey dipped her head, still misty-eyed from what had just happened. Something in the box crackled, and she murmured an _uh-oh_ before reaching inside to fish for it. 

“What, what is it,” he murmured gently. “Did you break a TIE fighter?” Rey held up a small hexagonal wing the size of a cracker, and he clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Those always break,” he said, in a soothing tone. “ _Ah, shit_.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy After-Christmas!! :'3
> 
> If I had any better sense of timing, this would've come out on Thursday -.-''

After last night, she pulled out her cardigan from beneath the bed, and turned out the contents of its pockets. She gathered the lighters together, lined them up, counted them. With shaking hands, she lined them up neatly on the middle level of the book shelf, at eye-level. That way, she would always know where they were. To Rey, they added festive color to the room; they were just as pretty as Ben’s tree.

Right after, Rey couldn’t help but go down again and look at the it. All it had needed was a little bit of love... and Star Wars ornaments. It was downright regal in the daylight. She could barely tear her eyes away. Stockings were hung above the fireplace, and now tinsel lined the mantle above it. Rey glanced at the picture frames, scanning them for the face of a girl her age: _Kira_. Instead, most of them were of an old woman standing next to Ben. Then Rey heard him walking down the stairs, and she gave up. 

“Good morning!” he said brightly. He was wearing a V-neck sweater and dark trousers, and his hair was combed back. He looked nice. “You’re up early.”

“I was woken up by this... _ringing_ , sound,” Rey said. She smoothed her hands nervously over the sweater she had found. It was red and green, with white reindeer; only if you looked close enough, the reindeer were humping each other. She had chosen it in the spirit of Christmas, but now she felt disrespectful. It was _Kira’s_ shirt and ultimately _Kira’s_ sense of humor; therefore, Rey was only a guest, ‘borrowing’ it.

“That’s probably the carillon,” Ben said. After seeing her blank face, he added, “Church bells.” He walked towards the window and gestured at the frosted woods outside. “We’re not exactly in the middle of nowhere, you know. There’s a town about a mile out or so out. Ever since the renovation, Father Snoke has been devoted to ringing out every hour.”

“Oh,” said Rey. He didn’t seem to notice her sweater after all.

“You won’t hear it unless your head is empty, and you’re _very_ quiet,” he said, turning away from the light. “Come on. You can’t hear it if you’re chewing.”

They ate eaten breakfast together — actually, Ben made her breakfast and then did the dishes. He was going out for brunch with his parents later. Then they were going to look at a ballet. They would go home for a little bit, then out for dinner, and then his parents would go to a hotel, only to return for Christmas morning. 

_It’s a Wonderful Life_ was on tv tonight; Ben was shocked to hear that Rey had never watched it. “‘ _Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings,_ ’” he had cried indignantly. They (Rey and Ben) were going to watch it together, once his parents were at their hotel. But that was for tonight, assuming everything went according to plan.

Ben came up to her... to _Kira’s_ room, after; his head swiveled in the direction of the lighters for a moment. Rey sat at the end of the bed, with her hands in her lap. 

“What are you going to watch at the ballet?” Rey prompted. She had been holding that question in since breakfast.

“The fucking _Nutcracker_ ,” he huffed through gritted teeth. “If I don’t come home, just assume that I’ve finally _necked_ myself.”

“What’s it about?” Rey asked. “I’ve never been to the ballet.” _I would like to go_ , she thought, but did not say.

“It’s two hours of people in tights prancing around a stage,” he muttered. He ran his hand along his neck, his mouth twisted to the side. “I fucking hate to do this to you, but...” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key. Rey turned away from him, anxiety rising.

There were certain traits about this room. First was that there was no landline in this room, and he didn’t have a spare mobile phone for her. Second was that this room locked on the outside; Ben didn’t know why, but he bought it this way. It didn’t serve a purpose except to freak out Kira, until now. 

“You know that I’ll unlock it right before we leave,” he said. “This is to keep them from barging in and asking _weird_ questions.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, her gaze wandering to the bookshelf. 

In that moment, Ben walked up to her, and he drew his fingers along the nape of her neck, making her jump — she had used some of the hair ties she found to do her hair in buns. “You know, tonight you’ll have my _undivided_ attention,” he told her. 

Rey turned her head, and his knuckles grazed her cheek. Her breath caught.

As he spoke, he tugged a stay lock of hair from one of her buns, and he twirled it in his fingers. “You’re not going to _run away_ while I’m gone, right?” he said. “You’re not thinking about _stealing_ my shit and _bailing_ on me, are you? After I opened my home and my heart to you?”

Rey shook her head indignantly. _I’m not a thief,_ she thought. And she knew that she owed Ben, for taking her in. 

“ _Because I’ll find you_ ,” he said. His fingers paused and Rey felt a tug at her scalp; he had her hair wrapped tight around his index finger. 

“ _I’m not a thief_ ,” Rey bit out angrily. How _ungrateful_ did he think she was? She tossed her head, and that pulled her hair from his grasp. Before he could stop her, she stood up from the bed and walked towards the bookshelf, her arms crossed over her chest. 

Behind her, the policeman sighed sharply through his nose. “ _Just don’t,_ ” he choked out, “ _think about leaving_.” 

Rey waited for another harsh word or an explanation or a threat, but the silence stretched on. Curious, she tore her gaze from the row of lighters, to see the door to her room slam shut. On the other side, the bolts turned shut. Her stomach dropped — she was locked in. It was time.

.

Out of consideration, Rey turned off all of the lights in her room. That way, no light would escape from beneath the door. White daylight streamed in from the dormer window far above, and it limned the furniture in the room with a gentle glow. The arrival of his parents was just a series of muffled noises from the outside world: doors opening and closing, a woman’s voice, feet stomping up the stairs. Rey crouched near the door, clutching a lighter to her chest. She wasn’t going to use it until they left for brunch; she wanted to stretch out their usage over her stay.

Ben’s mother had a loud, warm voice. She was supposed to be a Senator; Rey could imagine the pretty grey-haired lady from the pictures above the fireplace. Then shouts broke out from below: something was happening. The door banged in its frame.

Panicked, Rey flew to the bed, stopping short of hiding beneath the covers. Nails scratched furiously at the wood; a shadow darted beneath the door. Its barks were as loud as gunshots; it wasn’t until later she could make out someone yelling _Chewie! Chewie, shut up!_

The barking receded, but it was replaced with a soulful whining. _It’s okay, it’s okay_ , someone said, and she knew who it was. He was right outside the door — Ben was _right outside_. Electricity ran over the surface of her skin.

“What do you smell, boy?” A dry, rasping voice — Ben’s father.

“Your dog is _insane_ ,” Ben snapped.

“Han, he probably smells _Kira_ in there,” chimed in Ben’s mother. “Or something cute like that. Unless you have rodents scurrying around.”

“ _Or maybe he smells the dead bodies_ ,” Han replied. 

Ben groaned in agony, and the way the noises receded told Rey that he was herding everyone downstairs. Instead of feeling relaxed, Rey felt a touch of sadness. She pulled her knees to her chest, waiting for another commotion, but the house had quieted down.

They didn’t go to brunch after all. Well, that was fine. Rey had a large breakfast. She was able to read a bit in the light from the dormer window, until her eyes began to strain. From downstairs wafted the smell of cooked food, and she pulled the collar of her sweater up to cover her nose.

She was in the middle of a nap, when she realized that she couldn’t hear anything from downstairs. She slid off of the bed and pressed her ear to the door. Nothing. Had she dozed off when they left? Did they go to the ballet after all?

Rey stepped back from the door, her hands balling into fists. It took no small amount of effort not to _cry_ for him. He didn’t unlock the door for her. He didn’t unlock the door, so he couldn’t be out for long. Maybe he and his parents were out for a walk...

A jingling sound came from outside. Heavy panting. Wherever they were, they left the dog at home. Rey folded her knees beneath her. “ _Chewie_?” she whispered. A whining and snuffling sound came from the other side. The door shuddered.

Rey slid her hand beneath the doorway, and something warm and wet lathed against her fingertips before she jerked her hand away. At least the dog knew that she was here.

Rey talked to Chewie for a while. As a sign of goodwill, she pushed a pencil beneath the door, and it disappeared. She urged him to give it back, like a game of fetch, but it never did. Rey hoped that he didn’t eat it.

But they could only entertain each other for so long — the light drained fast out of the dormer window, and her stomach clenched into a tight ball. Uneasy thoughts floated into her head, like, _What if he doesn’t come back_ , _How will I get out_ , _Where is he_? The alarm clock on the nightstand read that it was after four. 

She uncrossed her legs and went to the bookshelf, perusing the row of lighters. She picked one and dimmed the lights, before crawling back onto the bed. Once she removed the cap, the lighter fluid took her troubles away.

All of her questions shrank and dissolved like ice in a hot bath. Another breath removed her hunger, and made her warm all over. She felt wonderful; Rey didn’t know why she held off until now. She fell backwards into Kira’s bed and closed her eyes.

When she looked at the clock again, it read six thirty eight in big, red numbers. She could even dare to laugh at it. All that time dripped away, lost to pleasure.

She looked at the shelf; there was that niggling temptation again, to just take it all and let herself disappear from the world entirely, to lose herself in the light. But she remembered her promise to Ben. Instantly she felt the way his fingertips dig into her shoulders, the look in his eyes from yesterday. What had he asked? ‘ _Are you going to kill yourself?_ ’ Rey shook her head; no, sometimes her memory was all screwed up. He told her that he would be in trouble if someone found her, a teenage girl, dead in his attic… Well, she wouldn’t leave her body here for him to find.

Rey turned herself away from the bookshelf and faced the wall. Her fingers shook and a coldness filtered into her fingers. She would remain here, in this world — for _now_. Maybe next Christmas, on a colder, more hopeless night, she would reconsider it again...

Blood, blood. Barking. Rey sat up in bed and heard footsteps from below; someone was in her house... except, it wasn’t her house. The air smelled like copper, and her lips were wet. She swiped her tongue over her upper lip and tasted blood. Claws scratched at the door. 

Immediately, Rey turned the light on the nightstand off. Her teeth clacked together as the dog howled; Rey snatched a tissue from the nightstand and held it to her bloody nose. It happened whenever the weather was dry. But where was the lighter? She glanced around in total darkness, save the light from below the door. Her thoughts were disjointed and made worse by the taste and smell of dried blood and lighter fluid. _Would they be able to smell that?_ she wondered blearily. 

“ _Jesus_. _He’s really freaking out,_ ” Han sighed. “ _What’ve you got up there?”_

“ _Nothing,”_ snapped Ben.

“ _You wanna open the door or something? If it’s a rat, Chewie’s not going to leave it alone_.”

“ _I don’t know where the key is_ ,” Ben whined, his voice fading as he walked back down the stairs. 

With the tissue pressed to her face, Rey curled onto her side and closed her eyes.

She woke up again, and everything was quiet; but when she tried to open the door, it was still locked, so she returned to bed. She woke up again, and the lights were on, and the room spun in wide carnival-ride arcs. She was wet all over and she couldn’t move. She tried to scream but her throat was paralyzed. The door knob turned, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She woke up again, blind, breathing in sharp gasps; she turned onto her side and curled into a tight ball, with her arms wrapped tight around herself. Her flesh was cold and damp, and goosebumped all over.

It took all of her courage to push one chilled foot out of the blankets. She stood up on uncertain feet, swaying gently. Finally, her hands felt the edge of the book shelf. By touch, she padded along the spines of books until she could grab a new lighter. 

Out of curiosity, she flicked on the light. 

He was right next to her. 

Rey shrieked and the lighter fell to the floor, setting out the fire. She couldn’t remember being so afraid. She reached out and swept her hands through the air. Then she knelt down and picked up the lighter. No, _he couldn’t be here_ , she thought, as she sank onto the bed. _I must be really hungry... or it could’ve been the butane..._

She woke up in a cold sweat, smothered as she was beneath the blankets. Even in the dark, she could see his features — his white face, his expression or lack of it. His eyes — his eyes hadn’t looked _real_. _That_ was it. 

Rey knew that she had dreamed it all up. But now, she wondered if she were still trapped in a nightmare. The idea of it paralyzed her.

Sometimes, the lighter fluid made her see things and hear things that weren’t there. Sometimes these visions were wonderful, or sad; she usually remembered her mother in them, or the day her mother left her. But they were never frightening, like _this_. Rey swiped at her itchy nose and drew a slow and shaky breath, before closing her eyes. After a scare like that, her heart churned sickeningly inside of her rib cage. When she swallowed, her throat burned as if she had inhaled powdered glass. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that she could sleep through this night. It figured, that even with a warm bed and all the lighter fluid she could ask for, that she would be racked with nightmares and nosebleeds and desperate fear. 

_Please let me go to sleep_ , she begged. _Please let this night be over!_

There was a clicking sound.

Rey’s eyes shot open. Even her thoughts quieted.

Of all things, she heard the steady tinkling of a bell, drawing closer to the bed. From up above her, there was a wet intake of breath.

Without a word, without any indication, Rey knew that it was _him_ , but try as she might she could not muster up the courage or the strength to say something. Not even his _name_ , at least. _Am I dreaming?_ Rey asked herself. To be sure, she pinched the inside of her wrist.

Fingers gripped the covers and drew them down her body, exposing her curled form to the cold. Her own breath squeezed mechanically out of her chest. She was turned away from him; at least she had _that_ much. 

Then he ran his fingers up the back of her thigh, over her bottom — a cry escaped her. She flipped onto her back, her cheeks red with shame.

He let out a one-note sound that was not quite a laugh, like _ha_. “ _Did I wake you_ ,” he asked. It may have been because he was so close, but his voice sounded mechanical, as if he were speaking through a mask. “ _I’m sorry, little one._ ” 

Rey clutched at her chest with her hands; her nipples poked at her wrists through her thin pajama shirt. While she struggled to find her voice, he reached over her and drew a tissue from the nightstand. This he pressed over her nose and mouth. Flakes of dried blood lifted from her upper lip. She was startled at first, and then slowly sank into the bed. No one had ever done this to her, not for a long time. _Groomed_ her.

“ _I meant to let you out,_ ” he explained, “ _but they wouldn’t let me. I thought of you the entire time._ ” His tone was soft and wistful.

The tissue fell away and was replaced with his fingertips as he cupped her chin. The edge of the bed sank as he sat upon it, and she shifted her body to the side to make room for him. She just wanted to be kind to him, too. 

Rey wondered why he was here. He seemed to be in especially low spirits: this, the most happiest time of the year. Rey was curious about this Christmas Eve which he spent with his parents, curious about his relationship with his parents, and intrigued about what it was like to go to a real ballet. Instead, he sat on the side of the bed, hunched over. Once, he raised a hand and ran it over her shoulder, down to her waist. Her skin prickled, but she kept as still as possible. She was beginning to believe that he was just an affectionate man, not at all like the cruel Policeman she was so afraid of before.

He drew a small breath and broke the silence, “ _Rey_.” He took her hand from her chest and enveloped it in his warm ones. Sweat pricked his palms. “ _Would you do something for me?_ ” he asked. 

Excited at the thought of repaying him, Rey nodded. Then she added a hasty _yes_ , because perhaps he couldn’t see in the dark. 

“ _Good—.”_ He clutched her hand to his chest, and briefly struggled with something. The bed shook and Rey heard the rip of a man’s fly opening. The bells jingled furiously. “ _It’s been so long_ ,” he laughed breathlessly. 

He brought her hand around the shaft of something long, and hard. When her elbow fell, his thighs shifted. All at once, she realized what she was holding in her hands. Horror froze her body.

 _Please_ , he croaked. “ _Please, Rey,_ ” he repeated. He reached down and brushed her face with his free hand, his palm wet. “ _I’ll finish really fast,_ ” he promised sweetly. “ _Please_.”

The pleading and his wet petting were the signs of a desperate man. The body of the horror seeped out of her, and she bit her lower lip. She _did_ owe him.

Slowly, she squeezed him and his pleading choked to a halt. She ran her hand up, and then down the warm shaft. There was an unseen vein along the side which she traced with the pad of her finger. “I-is this good,” she asked, her voice taking a husky quality. A sticky substance wetted the surface of his skin, making the stroking easier. 

_Ha_ , he went again. His throat clicked as he swallowed; the tension from his body radiated out from him, like a coiled spring. In the last moment, he cupped a hand over his mouth and bent over. She pumped him even after he softened in her hand. When it was over, she withdrew her arm from him, holding her soiled hand away from her body. It was sticky with cum. She wiped it on the mattress. 

Rey imagined that he would leave afterwards, since he got what he wanted. His zipper flew up again, and the bells jingled more merrily to Rey’s ears. Then his hands grabbed her waist, and he drew up her shirt. She cried out, just as a palm slapped across her mouth. He shushed her gently. The bed sank as he placed a knee at each side of her body. 

“ _My parents are downstairs_ ,” he said. “ _You wouldn’t want to wake them, would you, sweetheart?_ ”

His tone was sweet, but in his words there was a hidden threat: _Don’t wake my parents; you don’t want to wake my parents_. It was a dog whistle to her ears. She shook her head frantically, tears pricking her eyes.

“... _Good — such a good girl,_ ” he muttered. His hand slid away, and for a moment he seemed to be waiting for her to start screaming. When she didn’t, he muttered _good girl_ again as he pushed her shirt up, batting away her hands. 

She opened her mouth — and whether it was to scream or to beg him to stop, it didn’t matter, because in the next moment he bent down and kissed her left breast. In the dark, she couldn’t see this, but she felt the soft touch of his lips and the sigh from his nose, and the thought alone was enough to choke her. He opened his mouth and lathed his tongue from the underside of her breast to her beaded nipple. A sound escaped her, and she squeezed her thighs together, feeling a ripple of pleasure spread out from her core. 

When he took her nipple in his mouth and began suckling in earnest, Rey sneaked her hands between their bodies and tried to rub herself off. His hand fell from her shirt and moved between her legs, catching her hand. 

He released her puffy nipple and turned his attention to the other one. As he did so, his third and middle finger slipped down and began rubbing between her cleft. Rey whimpered, thrusting her hips in time with his hand fruitlessly. After a moment, she shuddered and something wet stained her — _Kira’s_ — underwear, and she fell bonelessly onto the hot, wet mattress. 

Kisses grazed her jaw, and almost instinctually she tilted her head to give him her neck. Inside, Rey was of two minds: one part _horrified_ , that she’d just finished jerking off an older man and then let him touch her. The other part was _disappointed_ , that she fell just short of something. That it didn’t last as long as she hoped it would. It was beginning to exhaust her, all this _thinking_. 

She let the strength seep from her body, numbly letting him do whatever he wanted to do with her body next. He laid down next to her and gathered her in his arms. “ _Merry Christmas, sweetheart_ ,” he whispered in her ear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (where Benjamin Solo earns his wings)

The barking woke her up. The dog did several laps up and down the entirety of the house, baying like a car horn. The door shuddered on its hinges as the dog collided with it at maximum velocity. It was both awful _and_ incredible; in case of a fire, Rey had no doubt that Chewie would be able to wake an entire apartment building up and herd them to safety. _Maybe he knows it’s Christmas,_ she thought. Then she remembered Han and Leia; maybe once their son moved away, the family dog became their new baby. Hopefully, the big lug would get many more presents today; she would have to remember to ask Ben later.

The morning cacophony had the added effect of disguising the sound of her movements. She picked up the lighter from off the floor, went to the bathroom, and scratched off the dried speckles of blood from underneath her nose. She reached for a comb — but wait. Slowly she turned up her hand, so that her palm faced upward. The skin was paper-white, with a stiff texture. Rey brought her hand up to her nose, and found a faded, salty musk. 

It wasn’t a bad smell, not at all. Her tongue darted out and wet her lip. A sudden thought: _what would it taste like?_ Her face lit up hotly. She gave a high laugh, disguised by Chewie’s awful howling. Rey opened the sink and placed her hand beneath the stream of cold water. Officer Solo said that this relationship ended when the winter break ended, maybe tonight he would return her to the stoop that he found her sitting on. 

What would she even say? ‘Let me stay here until New Years, and I’ll suck your dick?’ Rey laughed again, and while she washed her hands, she thought about the reindeer humping on yesterday’s Christmas sweater. Kira would probably want this room back. The Policeman would most definitely want Rey out of his house. Like he said before, the body of a teenager inside of his house would pose a problem if it ever got out, whether that body was dead or alive. 

As she combed back her hair, her eyes wandered over to what was lying on the counter of the sink: two hair-ties, with a little red ribbon attached to each one. After a moment’s pause, she pinched these in her fingers and slid each one into her hair, first one bun and then the other. 

Rey smiled at herself in the mirror, before making a face. Now she _really_ could not ask him if she could stay. What happened last night could have been a fluke. ‘The soul is willing, but the body is weak’ — Rey didn’t know where she heard that before, but it dimly applied now. Outside of his tough and scary exterior, Officer Solo turned out to be more than she could have ever believed. 

He was a man who put up Star Wars ornaments on his Christmas tree, who loved his parents so much that he would sit through a ballet, who would open his home up to some girl scavenging for spare change or a butane-high. Ben was a nice person, and he would see yesterday as a mistake. When Rey looked into the mirror, she could see nothing worth saving, and nothing worth loving.

While the Solos enjoyed their Christmas morning, Rey truly did not. It was a certain kind of torture: to smell freshly cooked pancakes and bacon, and to know that you won’t be able to eat it. Rey’s stomach formed a tight fist in her body. Her mind buzzed with the lack of butane, but she stubbornly resisted the call. She had just slept off a high, just got out of bed and washed her face. Hell, she even got dressed and put his ribbons in her hair. She didn’t want to ruin all the effort that she put in, by starting off Christmas morning as high as a kite. 

With a tight breath, Rey swept the lighters off of the middle shelf and stashed them underneath the bed. She was hoping to find something to take her mind off of syrup, butter, bacon, and the other delicious smells that wafted out of the kitchen and into the rafters. 

Rey took a closer look at the middle shelf, now that her lighters were out of the way. The books there were odd; she saw one for cooking and origami, and then some about women in politics and civil rights. Rey looked at the other hardcover books: Harry Potter, Hunger Games. When Rey found them, she needed to blow the dust from them, and their spines cracked when she opened them. The pages still smelled new. The prices that she read on the inside of the book covers were basically astronomical to her, yet Kira just _left_ them here. 

Rey slid out the origami book. There were sample papers inside with pre-punched folded lines on it, and none were cut out. There was a seasonal section near the end, and she figured that she could make maybe a paper Santa for Ben. Whatever Kira did all day, it wasn’t spent being locked up in this room with the books that her loved ones bought for her. 

One of the books looked _off_ to her. The title on the spine read some long sentence about a thesis on canine physiology, written by a PhD student named Sha’a Gi. Rey pulled it out, and the texture of the ‘pages’ immediately set her off: there were no pages. She flipped open the cover to discover that it was not a book, but a disguised box. The inside of the cover sported a crude drawing of the Scooby Doo character smoking a blunt. At the bottom of the box, there was a square sheet of paper which she picked up, and unfolded.

Meanwhile, the other residents of the house enjoyed their Christmas Day. Downstairs, Chewie the dog received a small fortune in pig ears and toys, which he piled into a heap onto the carpet. Han finally sneaked a kiss from his wife, Leia Organa-Solo, underneath the mistletoe, and the two spent the morning in each other’s arms, silently wishing that Luke was there. And Benjamin Solo trained his eyes on the ceiling, waiting to receive his own gift. 

When his parents and their dog left, he went up the stairs to the attic door, where he stopped. Benjamin Solo stood before the door to his half-sister’s room, breathing as quietly as possible. There was no sound. He took the key out of his pocket, and slid it quickly into the lock, before he could change his mind. Bedsprings squealed behind the door, making him wince — it was a miracle they weren’t caught. He ran down the stairs, not checking to see if she was following. The man expected that she was already high this morning. His line of work and the entirety of his life had trained him to hold no expectations, and to assume the worst in people. 

Rey had sat up in bed when she heard the thud of those tumblers. Once she counted his steps returning downstairs, she took the note and folded it again, deciding to leave the gag box inside the room. It dawned on her that perhaps Ben knew all along but left the note inside for safekeeping, and that he would be angry at her for prying into his business. Still, he deserved to know. 

Rey opened the door and walked downstairs. There she found him standing in that same room, in front of the glittery tree that they had decorated. The man wore a sheer black sweater with a U-neckline, and he stood smartly like a toy soldier, except his arms were crossed over his chest. His eyes were trained on something up in the tree.

“Ben?” Rey followed his gaze. Sitting at the very top of the tree, looking down upon them, was an angel. She wore a long white robe that glittered in the sunlight, and her hands were clasped in prayer. Her brown hair framed a delicately sculpted face. When Rey saw it, she made a small sound of appreciation, a quiet _oh_.

“I know.” Ben made a brief smile. “Do you like her?” he said. He spoke in a half-whisper, half-croak, while his eyes never left the angel. “My mother bought her from some department store, a long time ago. Sometimes when she’d bring company over, she would lie and tell them she came from Alderaan. Only me and Han knew that it was a big fat lie.” Benjamin spoke so fast that it was difficult to hear or understand him. 

“I didn’t care,” he said. “For the longest time, I was in love with her. Things would get _really_ hectic around the holidays, with my family, and I would think about her... coming to life... holding me. It was the _only_ thing I wanted.”

Rey turned to look back at him, and she saw that his eyes were filmed with water. He took a step closer and he reached a hand underneath the angel’s dress, before bringing her down to eye-level. This close, Rey could see the sweep of each eyelash painstakingly drawn onto her eyelids, and the blush staining her cheeks. Two small wings sprouted from her back. Rey slowly rested her hand Ben’s arm, and she rubbed his bicep reassuringly. “She’s beautiful,” Rey said. 

“It’s stupid,” he deadpanned. “I was a _stupid_ kid. I tried to get at her once when I was too short; I found myself a stool to stand on and everything. But I knocked her down and broke the wings clean off, and we never found the halo. Mom yelled at me for an _hour_ when she found out. I felt like fucking killing myself.”

“You were just a _child_ ,” Rey said, distressed. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

To her, it looked like Ben was wrestling with something else on his mind and losing. But he slowly turned to her, as if remembering that she was still there, and remembering this pulled him back to the present. His eyes were dark and rimmed with red, but his lips drew up in an unsteady smile. 

He placed the angel carefully on the mantle of the fireplace, before wiping his eyes. “Sorry you had to hear that shit,” he choked out. “Thanks for, you know. Not _laughing_ , or calling it _stupid_.” Before she could wonder why he would think so lowly of her, he turned to her and deadpanned, “You are now the second person that I’ve told that story to. Don’t go repeating it, or I’ll _get_ you.”

Based on the look in his eyes, Rey bit back her urge to tell him that his story wasn’t stupid. Instead, she nodded. She couldn’t believe that Ben would trust her enough to tell her such a story, that it made her chest hurt. “Ben, I want to give you something,” she heard herself saying. “I... I found it while I was in that room.”

At a glance, she couldn’t read his expression. Without a word, Rey handed over the square letter, which he seemed to take from her in slow motion.

“Where did you find this?” he asked. She told him that it was hidden in one of the books, but she couldn’t remember which. His fingers neatly unfolded the paper, and he read it with that unchanging face. It unsettled her; it reminded her of the face he would make when he was in uniform, turning out her pockets for lighters. Rey much preferred the sweet, laughing Benjamin, if she could divide him into two separate identities. 

Benjamin folded it up again, faster than she expected. In quick, conservative motions, he tore the square in half once, and then twice. He tossed the pieces casually into the cold fireplace. 

When he looked at Rey again, he must have seen the question on her face. “Thank you,” he said, his hands falling to his sides. “That letter tells me what I already know.” 

Rey struggled to keep her expression neutral, but her empty stomach kept churning. She couldn’t imagine why Ben would throw away something so precious.

She was so preoccupied, that she didn’t notice him extend his hand toward her, and he ruffled the crown of her head affectionately. _You look so cute_ , he muttered, and she felt the tug of the little red bows in her hair. She turned her eyes down and noticed that the floor looked like a war zone; pieces of shredded wrapping paper and dog fur littered the carpet. “Did Chewie get a lot of presents?” Rey said.

Ben looked down and his brow rose slowly, as if he were going into shock. He sighed through his nose and he placed his hands on his hips and muttered about dealing with it after breakfast. Rey very much liked the sound of that. As they walked towards the kitchen, he said idly, “You know, it’s the strangest thing; but ever since yesterday, he’d been trying to give me a ‘gift’, too. He’s the _second_ most selfish asshole on earth...” His voice trailed off.

From the tone of his voice, Rey suspected that he was engaged in some sort of sibling rivalry with his parents’ dog. “What did he try to give you?” she asked, bemused.

“A pencil,” he said.

Rey blanched. She said _oh_ , faintly; in spite of the warmth of the house, her body temperature must have dipped thirty degrees. Ben said nothing more and only hummed faintly to himself, as he added more oil to the skillet.

* * *

The evening stalked up behind Rey, and it caught her off-guard. She glanced up, terrified, at the clock on the wall. Ben followed her eyes, and when he saw the time, his mouth slowly turned downwards. Rey was waiting for the spell to break. She honestly didn’t remember what the terms of her stay entailed, except that it was temporary and that she could keep her lighters. Maybe she was supposed to leave _now_. 

Rey shrank away from him, pulling herself off of his body towards the other end of the sectional sofa. How had she ended up leaning on him? When this was over, he was going to set her _right_ where she belonged. He would chase her away from the subway station, confiscate her lighters, tell her to _fucking_ go home. Static crackled in her hair while she smoothed it down, and she realized too late that she was pulling apart a braid. 

He smacked his hand on the arm of the couch. “I was hoping to cook with you,” he pouted, “but I guess we’re having leftover _stew_ for dinner.” He turned to her, maybe to see if she shared his distaste for leftover food. When he saw what she had done to her hair, he smacked the arm of the couch again. With an air of purposefulness, he spat into the palm of his hand, reached over, and smoothed it over her staticked hair. “There,” he said, wiping his hand off on his sweater. “Time for stew.”

“So — so,” she blurted out. Ben swiveled in place, to look at her. Rey half-sat on the sofa, coiled to spring after him at the prospect of food. She had half a mind to drop this question — that maybe if she said nothing, he would simply forget that he needed to send her back. Rey might be that stupid, but not the Policeman. “Um.” She swallowed. “Do I – do I go back, _tomorrow_?”

His brow knitted together. His head tipped to the side, as he said _back to what_. “Back...” Rey wouldn’t call it home. If she were plopped back onto the subway station, and she walked to the dilapidated brownstone where she stayed at, and she pushed open the door, Plutt might notice if he were awake. And either right there, or the next morning, Plutt might ask her where the fuck she’s been. “Back to where you found me,” she said, numb.

Ben stared at her, as if she had replied in a different language. “No,” he said. 

Rey frowned. Without a calendar, she couldn’t tell when the work day began. Then she wondered if Policemen did have weekends off. “The New Years?” she suggested faintly. That couldn’t have been what they agreed to.

But to her utter shock, Ben nodded. He walked to the kitchen as he talked; he needed to go out on patrol around the New Years (Eve and Day) so that Officers Hux and Phasma could rotate off, but he trusted her not to steal anything. “I think you’re a good girl,” he said. He dumped a plastic container’s worth of congealed stew into a pot. “Normally, I’d give this crap to the _dog_ ,” he muttered, “but I was told that _you_ might want to try it...”

She couldn’t believe it: an entire winter’s break, in a warm home. A part of her swelled with glee, but another part kept doubting the miracle. It couldn’t have been an entire _week_. If he _did_ extend the date, then _why_? Out of the goodness of his heart? ... This was a man who traded pills in exchange for sex with his teenage half-sister. Rey wasn’t sure how old that girl was now, but she couldn’t shake the sense that he wanted something out of her, and she bit her bottom lip. 

She was wearing slippers that gripped the tiled floor in the kitchen. Slowly, she swung them back and forth, when she asked him, “Will I do... _things_ , like yesterday?”

A beat passed. He took a wooden spoon and stirred at the contents of the pot. A wonderful smell filled her nose. “Did it bother you?” he asked, without looking at her. Rey shrugged her shoulders before she realized that he couldn’t see. “It’ll be like... _cooking_ , Rey. It’s nothing you can’t learn,” he remarked.

Rey hugged herself, feeling dirty. Her body temperature must have dropped by thirty degrees. She wasn’t sure if she could be a poorer, more desperate version of Kira; Kira had the luxury of escape. A handjob was okay, but she wasn’t sure if she should give him anything else. Once school started again, she would need to go back to Plutt’s, anyways. Her shoulders sank with a kind of minute relief. 

She had no desire to return to Plutt, but she loved school. All her friends were there, and she was good at math; they would share their lunches with her. Ben told her to set the plates onto the mahogany slab table in the formal dining room, and when she was finished, he brought out the pot of stew and set it on the table. It smelled pretty nice, very _beefy_. Ben came out of the kitchen carrying two glasses of red wine. “More leftovers, from yesterday,” he said. When he set the glass in front of her, she muttered a small thank you. Maybe just a sip would be okay. “You know I won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable doing,” he said lightly.

Rey looked up at him, while he sat on his side of the table. She could feel the heat rush up her neck. Her stomach formed a tight fist, and she set down her spoon to rub at the nape of her neck.

“Your old man, he told me, you might be kind of _innocent_ ,” he said, “but I don’t know. He don’t know shit.”

“You – you talked to my stepfather?” she asked, frowning. The thought pinged inside of her head; maybe she heard it before, but she didn’t question it.

Benjamin rolled his shoulders, and he said something about performing a background check, once. He didn’t really know much else about her, he didn’t know if she was goods at school or what her favorite food was. Then he spooned stew into his mouth.

Rey felt herself relax, and her appetite returned. “I like school,” she confessed.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he took a sip from his wineglass. When he swallowed, he asked, “Do you get good grades?”

Rey shrugged and said ‘Math’, vaguely. She wasn’t thinking of going to Engineering school at any rate, not with her GPA being what it was. She took a sip of her own glass, and noticed some dark sediment swirling at the bottom. Rey figured it must be… _wine sediment_ , like the things that grapes gave out when they were fermented and squished. The drink itself tasted very sour, but warming.

“You don’t get bullied?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together. “Don’t they know about Plutt? The lighters?”

“Nobody knows,” she said carefully. Girls did make fun of her for her clothes or for her near-illiteracy, but they didn’t know the half of it. She wanted to stop talking about that, so she took a long sip of the wine.

The cutlery clinked. Ben spoke suddenly, “ _Careful with that_.” The tone of his voice gave her pause, and she lowered the glass. The recessed lights in the dining room seemed to pulse a little bit. She wondered how she could get tipsy so fast. Benjamin seemed to double and undouble on the other side of the table. “I wanted to at least get through dessert first,” he said. “My mother brought a cake, you know.”

Rey gripped the edge of the table, trying to center herself. She looked at the Benjamins for help; she didn’t know why she felt so sick. She couldn’t be sure if he even understood the sounds that she made, but his brow knitted with concern. The chair scraped as he stood up, and he walked over to her. A warm palm cupped her face, and slid up her forehead. “Poor baby,” he cooed. “You must be _all_ tuckered out. We had a _very_ busy day today,” he said. The day’s events swirled nauseatingly inside of Rey’s head. She had felt better than she ever did before, eating breakfast, cleaning the living room, playing in the snow, and then watching Christmas movies. All with Benjamin.

He dumped their uneaten stew back into the pot and carried it into the kitchen, and from the sound, she knew that he was condemning the precious leftovers to the trash. When he returned to take the wineglasses, he saw her face and clicked his tongue. “There’ll always be more _stew_ ,” he said, before reaching out to pinch her cheek. Rey didn’t know why he was so calm; she couldn’t move. When Benjamin returned to the dining room, she was half-relieved and half-terrified when he pulled her chair back and scooped her up in his arms. Her head lolled against his body, warm and solid.

When he spoke, his voice thrummed in his chest. “You know, I’m kind of _glad_ you’re good at school,” he said. “Kira was always finding ways to cut class. I think you’ll be a _fast_ _learner_.”

Rey tried to respond, but the only thing she could do was roll her tongue around the insides of her mouth, which tasted of leftover wine. Once they entered the living room, with the tree, he placed her down slowly onto the sectional sofa. He darkened the room, and lowered the blinds now that the sun was gone. In the dark, only the lights glistened on the beautiful tree, slowly pulsing and shifting like stars. “I still prefer it like this,” came his soft, awestruck voice.

But Rey wished that the lights were on again. She felt like she was floating in total darkness, cold and alone. Her breath quickened, and she made a sound in her throat.

“I’m here,” he said, closer now. “I’m here, _sweetheart_. I won’t leave you alone.”

To show that she wasn’t alone, a square of dull light flicked on. Some black and white movie played on the screen, but the audio was so muffled, she couldn’t understand what they were saying. It could’ve been either the beginning, middle, or end of that movie. She felt the sofa sink; she realized that Ben was _crawling_ over her. His breath tickled her cheek, and now she felt something soft brush the undersides of her jaw, and then her neck. A hand slid over her sweater and squeezed her breast, his fingers grazing her nipple beneath the wool.

Rey wanted this to stop, now. She wanted the light again; she wanted to feel warm and happy again. She managed to let out a strangled cry; she arched her back, trying to turn her chest away from his hand, but he shoved her shoulder down. “You’re too _fucking_ cute,” he sighed. “Your old man thought he could pull a _fast one_ on me, _sellyou_ for _fifty bucks_ ,” he said. He smacked a kiss against her cheek. His words crashed against each other, like he was getting angry, or excited. The Policeman did that; first he would talk really slow and carefully, and then: _getthefuckout, gohome, fucking stop cominghere_. Rey felt like she had been tricked – that, at some point, when the lights turned off, Benjamin and the Policeman switched places.

Rey blinked away tears, breathing in and out in short, terrified gasps. _Why_ , she asked, _why_ , but the only sound she could muster was a warbled “ _Wh_ … _wh_ …” The lights on the tree blinked and shifted slowly, floating in place, like will-o-wisps in a dark forest. When the Policeman pulled down her stockings, the lights flickered. He squeezed her thighs before dragging down Kira’s underwear, the cold settling into the base of her spine.

The scene on the television set switched to a happy scene of a man and woman playing in the snow, which Rey watched with dazed horror. There was a wet sound as the Policeman quickly drew two long fingers out of his mouth, and with his other hand, he grabbed her knee as if to hold her in place. When he pushed those fingers between her legs, she would take another hit.

He leaned in and nestled his face in the crook of her neck, nuzzling her collarbone. He cooed her name, _Rey_.

She shook her head like a dog. She turned her head this way and that, fearful. It might have been seconds, but his long fingers pushed slowly, _excruciatingly_ inside of her, tearing into the soft part of her. “ _I know it hurts, I know it hurts, sweetheart,_ ” he breathed. There was a tone of desperation in his voice. “ _But, I_ need _to do it, so that I don’t hurt you. I know I’m no fucking good, but I’ll try if it’s you._ ” Then he said, “I’ll let you have one of your _lighters_ , as a _treat_ , okay?” Rey couldn’t respond, but a light went off inside her head at the sound of it.

It didn’t hurt so much anymore, his fingers inside of her. When he moved it in and out, she could feel her body squeeze tight around it. He even curled his fingers, making her knees tense up, if they could only knock together. Ben felt it, and he smiled and kissed her quick on the mouth.

He placed his hands on his belt and struggled briefly with the silver buckle, and then slid down his trousers, his boxers. His long, pale thighs glowed faintly in the light from the television. Rey heard his voice, barely above a whisper, and she realized that he was saying _please_. His face glistened with sweat, and his eyes were half-lidded; as he grabbed her waist and dragged her body beneath his, he said it over and over like a prayer, _please_. Something pushed between her legs, pressing against the lips of her soft part.

She shook her head, mute. _No, sir, please don’t_.

He reached down between their bodies, before forcing his way inside of her. The man let out a stifled, choking sound. He slid his hand over her hair, mindlessly ripping away the ribbons she wore for him, and he pushed her face into the crook of his shoulder so that he could seat himself _deep_ inside of her, so that she could never leave him. It shouldn’t have felt good at all, but his fingers tweaked _that_ place that made the muscles in her back bunch up, and it made him slide in deeper. _Oh_ , he groaned, in a wet voice. _Oh sweet Jesus_. Rey could only look over his shoulder, at the softly glistening lights, and the television screen.

That Christmas night, the Policeman took her on his sectional sofa. Rey was feeling very warm now, in his arms, and she wondered if maybe he gave her something like the lighters she used. When he released inside of her, she felt a spark of fear like a _scream_ trapped inside of her throat, but Benjamin nuzzled her hair and hugged her tight, like a favorite toy. _I’ll take care of it_ , he promised, _I’ll take care of you_. Rey loved that voice so much, that she came next. She was scared for a moment, because she couldn’t control it, and she was afraid that she peed on him, but he reached between their bodies and rubbed the sweet stickiness up her thighs, painting her. “ _Look what you did_ ,” he said in a sing-song voice. “ _You_ liked _it, babydoll_.” He licked it off his fingertips in front of her very eyes and she went warm and shuddery all over. “ _Better than Christmas cake._ ”

He positioned her the way he wanted and curled up behind her, with his arms around her. Then he pulled a blanket over the both of them, switched off the television, and he made as if to fall asleep right there on the sofa. Rey laid in the dark, listening to his slow breaths, still left wondering about all the yesterdays, and todays, and tomorrows. Why Mister Policeman, why Benjamin, picked _her_ , and when could she go home, and what would happen if she had a _baby_ because he came _inside_ of her soft part when she didn’t want him to. If she could have _beef stew_ and _Christmas cake_ and _butane_ tomorrow, or if Benjamin would even _keep_ something like her around, and her eyes watered with a sudden onrush of feeling. Everything was muddied now. Behind her, he made a snuffling noise and wrapped his arms tighter around her and sighed though his nose.

It was then that she heard it — outside, in the cold, dark wilderness, the soft peal of a clarion bell.


End file.
